Fortunes and Fates
by JackFan2
Summary: Post No Rest for the Wicked. Bobby’s mind swirled with questions; how was it possible? So much blood. The deal. He forced the questions aside. None of it mattered for now. Now they had to act, while there was still hope… “Sam, he’s not dead!” One shot


THEN:

**My first attempt at Supernatural fanfic - I've got a multi-chapter in the works, but I needed to exorcise some demons that the season 3 finale left me with. (Dude, Kripke, Next con, I'm going to stand up and say 'CHRISTO!' coz, you're evil – and I love you) Now, back to work on that other fic.. I want it done before I post.**

**This ficlet came about in one of many conversations with my friend Rat (who just so happens to be the most marvelous beta IN the universe!) while we've speculated until we're blue in the face at what the season 4 opening ep might look like. **

**TITLE: Fortunes and Fates**

**TIMELINE: Opening Season 4**

**CHARACTERS: Sam, Dean and Bobby's POV**

**FIC TYPE: One-shot**

_**THEN:**_

Bobby skittered to a halt at the entrance to the room. The sight before him made his heart plummet to the ground. Sam sat on the floor, his back to him, rocking Dean's bloodied, eviscerated body cradled in his lap, tears of grief streaming from his eyes.

The older hunter slammed his eyes shut. They'd been too late. Bobby fought to gather his emotions, harness his own grief and anguish. Dean Winchester was dead; the young man had been like a son to him. Fighting for control, he resolutely pushed back the sorrow that swamped his soul and stepped into the room. Sam needed him now, needed someone who'd understand.

On quiet feet he stepped up behind the younger hunter and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. The sight of Dean's body was hard to look at, so he fixed his gaze on the top of Sam's head, still fighting for control, trying to gather himself, and trying to find his voice.

"Sam…" Bobby 's voice broke, breath hitched in a controlled sob. Swallowing, he knelt beside the youngest Winchester – no, the _only_ Winchester – the thought rocked him to the core and for a moment all he could do was place one hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I…"

The quiet, mournful sounds of Sam's grief filled the room. It was the sound of love, shattered and broken, the falling pieces echoing a deepest sadness.

Bobby took as deep a breath as his aching chest would allow, his lungs dying to answer the call to give way to his own breaking emotions. But Sam needed him now. Dean would want this, would want him to be there for him.

That's all it took for Bobby to draw it in. Dean would want this, would want him to be there for Sam. Steeling his emotions, he turned to look at Sam, "We gotta…" then, of their own volition, his eyes met Deans open gaze. Bobby stilled.

There was something … just this side of the green of Dean's eyes; something that didn't speak of the dead, of the departed. Bobby wasn't sure what it was that made him lunge toward the fallen hunter, the young man he'd come to love like a son, but he did.

Placing two fingers on Dean's throat, he felt it; the faint flutter of a heart beat. "Sam." Bobby choked. He turned his large, stupefied gaze on the younger Winchester. "He's not dead."

Sam's eyes closed, tears spilled. "Bobby…" but he couldn't finish; grief swamped him, fogged his brain.

Bobby's mind swirled with questions; how was it possible? So much blood. The deal. He forced the questions aside. None of it mattered for now. The pulse was weak; they had to act, while there was still hope… "Sam, he's not dead!"

Sam shook his head, "Bobby... God, I want him to be alive too but…"

Clearly Sam didn't believe. Bobby grabbed Sam's right hand and dragged it forcefully to Dean's jugular. He knew the moment Sam felt it. The younger man turned to face him. A myriad of emotions played out in that few seconds: wonder, panic, hope, fear, elation, caution.

Bobby launched to his feet – ambulance they needed an ambulance – and frantically dug in his pocket. The cell phone was in his hands in seconds, open and he hastily punched keys.

A startled gasp filled the room and Bobby turned. The family that lived in the house, the very family who'd been terrorized by Lilith, stood in the door way gaping.

"My God.." The woman's hand flew to her mouth. There was blood everywhere.

"Don't just stand there!" Bobby shouted. "Here, take the phone and tell the ambulance where they're going."

"Right." The mother grabbed the cell phone and started giving directions.

The father pushed the daughter to the side, so she couldn't see any more than she already had. "What can I do?" He asked, feeling useless and needed something to focus on other than the ruin his family had become.

"I need towels, sheets, blankets. He's lost a lot of blood and we gotta keep what's left in him from leaking out. Go!"

Bobby turned and caught Sam's eye.

"How…?" Sam choked, a new pool of tears puddling in his eyes. "Bobby…"

"I dunno, son, but we're not looking this gift horse in the mouth. Maybe for once, just this once, the Winchesters found some luck."

_**NOW:**_

_Six months later…_

"Just be careful of the locals when you get there." Bobby advised. He placed the phone in the crook of his shoulder to maintain contact while he placed the old book back on the shelf, safely amongst his collection of lore. Returning to the kitchen, he resumed cleaning the days dishes in the sink. "They don't take real kindly to strangers."

"_I will."_ Sam's voice promised on the other end. There was a moment of silence then, _"Um.."_ Bobby heard him hesitate. _"Hey, think you could call the hospital and check up on Dean for me?"_

Bobby smiled gently. "They finally get tire of your naggin'?" There was the gentlest amount of sarcasm in the question 'coz the older man knew how hard the last six months had been on Sam.

With his brother diagnosed as being in a permanent vegetative state, it had been hard to coax Sam away from Dean's bedside. However, there was still the mystery of why Dean's body was alive at all to be uncovered, and the ever-present concern over the location of Dean's soul. Neither of those questions were going to be answered while keeping a hospital vigil.

"_Yea…"_ Bobby heard the sad smile in his voice. _"I just wish I could be there more for him but…"_

"Son," Bobby interrupted. "His vitals haven't changed goin' on six months now. You're brother ain't going anywhere. You got a job to do and part of that job is—"

"_Yea yea, I know."_ Sam sighed. _"I'm just, I already failed him once, Bobby. What do we do next? Just.."_

There was a noise coming from the front of the house and Bobby froze and listened. Then again. A knocking sound. "What the…"

"_What is it?"_

"Someone's at my door." The knocking persisted and Bobby placed the dish he'd been washing back in the sink and called out, "Hang on! Be right there!"

"_What, no one ever visit you?"_

"No smart ass," he snapped at the young hunter as he made the last few steps to the front door. "It's just that Wilson didn't so much as raise a ruckus."

"_Well,"_ Sam chuckled_. "That's not so unusual. Dean and I got by him plenty of times. God, that dog must be 18 years old and partly deaf."_

"Ah, he _knows_ you boys, so you don't count."

"_Thanks."_ Sam said dryly.

"But yea, I suppose you're right. He is getting' long in the tooth." Bobby turned the knob and opened the door. And froze. The person leaning weakly on the door frame made Bobby's jaw dropped... along with the cell phone in his hand, right to the floor. "My god… Dean."

"_What?"_ The sound of Sam's demands barely registered from the dropped phone on the floor. _"Bobby? What's going on?"_

"What'd he do Bobby?" Dean asked hoarsely. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he sagged to the floor. Bobby caught him before he could hit the floorboards and gently lowered him down the rest of the way.

Grabbing up the dropped cell phone, Bobby put it to his ear, "Sam! Stop what you're doing and haul ass back here. Pronto!

"_What is it? What's happened?"_

"It's Dean son, he's here. He's… right here in my house. Don't know how, but .. get back here now!"

Sam didn't hear anything more after _'He's… right here in my house'_. The Impala was jerked frantically to the shoulder. The engine roared and gravel flew as he executed his U-turn.. The speedometer pegged at 85 mph and climbing as he pressed his foot to the pedal and headed back to the junkyard, his heart in his throat.

end

A/N: Did I mention how great my beta is? Rat is my beta, mine all mine! You can't have her, coz she's mine! Not sharing. If this is any good, it's coz of her.


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